Like a Thief in the Night
by mz kane
Summary: He had her. She was imprisoned in his home while the rest of the world thought she was dead. The more he saw her, the more he wanted to possess her. And yet, he wanted more than her intelligence and skills. He wanted her heart. DMHG.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Any characters, situations, references and locations used in this story that are recognizable in the Harry Potter books are JK Rowling's. Although, I have changed quite a few of the buildings (in location and appearance). The plot, however, is mine.

Author's Note: Ha! Another fan fic from me... and I hope you all enjoy it. The idea came to me one day when I was watching the sun go down (how dramatic! I know!). Anyways, reviews and suggestions are most appreciated... as are your kind words of inspiration. Don't be fooled with the first few chapters of this fan fic. I'm a Draco/Hermione shipper and I always will be! To all the readers of 'Impossible to Ever Love', I am not giving up on the story; chapter 22 is half-finished. Expect the next installment to be up quite soon. Meanwhile, enjoy!

**Like a Thief in the Night **

Chapter 1

"Hermione dear, you are going to be late for work if you don't hurry up." Mrs. Granger called out from beyond the closed door to Hermione's bedroom.

"I'm coming, Mother!" Hermione called out from inside, shaking her head as she looked herself over in the full-length mirror. Hermione to smooth out her brown bushy hair, without much success. She sighed before grabbing a hair scrunchie and placing her hair in a bun. Honestly, she didn't know why someone like Harry would even like her, much less be her ever-faithful boyfriend for the past 5 years.

Hermione giggled like a small girl. She was thinking of Harry again. It was amazing, amusing, and sometimes annoying that Harry Potter would invade her mind even in the most redundant of times. Times such as this; when she should be getting to work. She winced at the wall clock off to the side to her room when it told her that she was going to be late if she allowed herself to think about the love of her life for any longer than necessary.

Grabbing her tote bag, filled with parchments full of references and transcriptions and other kinds of complicated things, and a lightweight jacket, she rushed out of the door and sped down the stairs, jumping at the last step to the landing of the first floor of her parent's house. With a shout of good-bye and a wave, she was out the door walking at top speed towards the portkey that would send her from her house to the laboratory where she worked.

A background check of Hermione Granger might be in order right now.

Having found out that she was a witch when she was just a mere child, Hermione was packing her bags and learning all that she could about the wizarding world before she even opened her very first Hogwarts letter. During her first year in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she became close friends with probably the two most important people in her life: Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Together, they studied... well, maybe she studied as the two boys went off doing mischief of some sort; played and overcame the many trials set upon them.

Harry was once a boy with big, round glasses and unruly hair who could've passed for any other Hogwarts' student. But he wasn't any other Hogwarts' student... because he was the Boy Who Lived. When little Harry was well... little, a powerful wizard by the name of Voldemort (and yes, we can say his name now) came and killed both of Harry's parents. Voldemort tried to kill Harry as well, but because of his destiny, Harry became the only person to ever survive the killing curse the Dark Lord put on him.

The uncertainty of good versus evil went on for seventeen years. During Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts, the Dark Lord, Voldemort, tried to defeat Harry Potter, Headmaster of Hogwarts' Albus Dumbledore and the rest of the wizarding world who were in the Light Side. Fortunately for the wizarding world and the muggle world as well, Voldemort was defeated and his followers were all sent to Azkaban.

But Harry would not have successful in his mission if it weren't for his best friend, Ron Weasley. Ron was, and still is, a tall and lanky fellow with blazing red hair that matched his attitude. Ron was responsible for the support and reinforcements during that battle between good and evil.

And they both wouldn't have survived the whole ordeal if it weren't for Hermione's quick thinking and even quicker action. A hearty celebration was in order after the whole thing and the trio was in the middle of it all. The night wore on of partying and merrymaking... and as the rest stayed inside the Great Hall, outside, in the Quidditch pitch, Harry kissed Hermione for the first time.

After graduating from Hogwarts, Harry went on to become one of the best Aurors in England. Even though that Voldemort was dead and really, really, really dead, there were still the wizards that needed to be kept in control and put under much surveillance. What scared most of the people now were the mostly unidentified attackers, who the Aurors classified as Death Eater and Voldemort Immortal Legion (D.E.V.I.L.s), who caused random acts of misdemeanors and crimes. Some of the D.E.V.I.L.s were caught and sent to Azkaban, but some still got away and they were most likely growing in number. For what reason, exactly, the Ministry of Magic did not know.

But in the midst of all the crime that was kept more or less in control, the rest of the wizarding world sleep softly and deeply in their beds at night, having no more fear of raids or mass destructions by Voldemort's faithful followers.

We're getting away from the topic at hand...

During her seventh year at Hogwarts, Hermione's ideals changed. No longer did she want to become a Hogwarts professor, a career most people were expecting her to choose. Instead, after graduating, she gave a year and a half to intensively studying Potions. Guided by Professor Severus Snape and his colleague, Professor Douglas Mackenzie, they supported Hermione's decision and trained her to become very proficient in the art.

After that one year and a half, Hermione emerged as having top honors in Potions. Professor Mackenzie, who was probably half as old as Dumbledore, having acquired much wealth during his work in the field, came to Hermione one day and proposed an idea that would change her life. He was in the middle of creating a Potions Laboratory designed specifically to supply St. Mungo's Hospital with all the medicines they would ever need and the chance to create new medicines and other serums as well. Hermione graciously accepted.

It took another six months for the Laboratory to be finished. When it was done, Hermione and two other witches soon claimed the place to be theirs. They quickly set up their materials and set to work. Of course, some of the materials and ingredients had to be ordered from the Poltergeist Profuse Potion Pile or the Herbology Greenhouse which former classmate, Neville Longbottom manned; and there were times when the demand grew larger than the supply, but Hermione was happy with her work. Her work consisted of getting transcripts of the new difficulties of the patients at St. Mungo's and hospitals from other countries as well and trying to come up with a new potion to solve them.

The pay was more than enough to persuade her to get a place of her own when she turned twenty. Unfortunately, because of her work and the dedication needed in it, she was unable to keep up her new apartment and she ultimately had to go back to her parent's home until she had a real house of her own.

Marriage was never a concept in her mind for the last five years of dating Harry. She felt that they were too young to even think about something as definite as that. Harry, for the most part, respected her decision. But it wasn't long after her decision to take things extremely slow that he went out and bought an engagement ring, waiting for the right time to pop the question that would hopefully make him the happiest man in the world.

With a swirl and a pull and other stomach-turning things that happened when you used a portkey, Hermione was in front of the lab in no time at all. The lab was situated at the back of the east wing of St. Mungo's so that the serums could be transported easily and there would be no miscommunication within the two buildings.

She smiled when she saw her friend and fellow Potions lab colleague, Hannah Abbot, sitting on a stone bench just a few feet from the front door of the lab. Hannah gave a small smile back. She was a slightly curvy young woman with long dirty-blonde hair that she always kept in a low ponytail. She had blue-green eyes and like Hermione, she never wore make-up unless you counted lip gloss.

"Good morning, Hannah!" Hermione greeted cheerfully as she took out the key to the lab (the lock was protected against all sorts of charms and things that could unlock it) and unlocked the glass-and-steel door to the lab. "Isn't this just the most beautiful day?" Hermione continued as she opened the door and turned on the lights.

"I guess." Hannah said somewhat plainly. But Hermione was used to her friend's quite sullen demeanor and continued on to her work table and set her tote bag on top of it. Hannah, who was great at Herbology, as she was dating Neville, and research and turned to be even more bookish than Hermione was in their Hogwarts years, sat at her usual place which was by the huge glass window in the back where she could think. Hannah unloaded her bag and brought out not one, not two but six heavy books about the old and still-uncured illnesses in the wizarding world.

For the next few minutes, both were settling in, arranging and rearranging their stuff on their respective tables. Hermione however, was unusually restless and was humming (if slightly off-key) a tune as she went from her desk, which was directly across the front doors of the Potion's lab and was beside the long lab worktable she often worked on, to other parts of the lab where she would do nothing at all.

Hannah, after watching Hermione flit, for a lack of a better word, from place to place, finally had enough and took matters into her own hands. Thankfully, Hermione had finally settled down on her desk chair, idly scanning over a few pages of transcriptions she'd been poring over for the past week before placing them down and no doubt going to jump up again if Hannah didn't do anything.

"What is wrong with you today Hermione?" Hannah spoke up suddenly. Gone was her sullenness and in place of it were amusement and a little concern.

"Nothing, nothing..." Hermione replied cheerily, waving her off. Hannah's eyebrow rose as Hermione tried to hide a grin. Then Hannah walked over to Hermione and leaned on the edge of her desk, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm just going to stand here until you tell me what's going on in that head of yours." Hannah said.

They both looked at each other. Hermione on the very verge of laughter and Hannah with a very mock- determined look on her face

"You and Harry got engaged, didn't you?" Hannah said suddenly before Hermione could say anything.

"No!" Hermione screeched, shaking her head vigorously.

"C'mon... don't tell me you're all happy and cheery today just because... there has got to be a reason!"

"A reason for what?" Called out a voice. The two girls turned around and sported ear to ear grins as they saw the third and final member of the Potions Lab approaching them: Lavender Brown.

Lavender was probably the most different from the three. After all, while Hermione and Hannah both had steady boyfriends, Lavender went out with a different man every week. Her choices varied from bookish and boring to wild and weird. And, she was the most fashionable of the group. Today, Lavender was wearing an olive-green turtleneck, a black skirt and knee-high black leather boots as opposed to Hermione's gray slacks and red sweater and Hannah's oh-so-drab well-not-really-but-kinda-suit. What most didn't expect about Lavender was her quick wit and intelligence. In the Potion's lab, she was in charge of recording and filing the results of the experiments and most often she helped Hermione with the brewing.

"What are you talking about?" Lavender asked, setting down her leather bag on top of her desk and walking up to the other two.

"Hermione's getting engaged." Hannah replied before Hermione could even think of what to say. Hermione looked at Hannah with wide eyes. But Hannah was all-innocence... it was Lavender who looked extremely appalled.

"Engaged?" Lavender echoed. "How can you be engaged when you don't even have a boyfriend?"

Hermione glared at the two. "First off, I'm not engaged and I'm not getting engaged anytime soon," She said looking pointedly at Hannah who simply rolled her eyes. "Second," here, Hermione turned to Lavender. "What do you mean 'I don't have a boyfriend.'?"

"Well it's true." Lavender replied coolly, running her manicured fingers (French-tipped, mind you) through her long raven-colored hair. "You don't have a boyfriend."

"Excuse me, but if you haven't heard, I've been going out with Harry for five years." Hermione informed.

"Oh, Harry?" Lavender considered him for a moment. As if she didn't know him at all and was trying to picture him in her mind. "Like I said." Lavender said, turning to Hermione and crossing her arms over her chest, "You don't have a boyfriend."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Hermione said quite indignantly.

"Okay, guys... cool it." Hannah warned.

"It's alright Hannah, I'm just making a point." Lavender said.

"Which is?" Hermione asked.

"That Harry might be Boy-Who-Lived and all, but that's just it." Lavender said, as if it explained everything. "He's a boy... not even the least sense husband material."

"What's all this talk about marriage anyway? I'm not even getting married!" Hermione replied.

"Hermione, you're my friend... but really, you need a man, not a boy." Lavender said. "I mean Harry's cute and all but he's just too..."

"Nice?" Hannah supplied.

"Sweet and loving?" Hermione quipped, smiling.

"Virgin." Lavender said with the nonchalance of someone talking about the weather. Hannah burst out laughing while Hermione groaned.

"I'm serious!" Lavender defended as Hannah went off to the bookshelf which was to the side of her desk and Hermione shook her head, turning back to her work. Having found that both were definitely not going to listen to anything she was going to say, Lavender shrugged and sauntered off to her desk, muttering an "I know you agree with me, Granger." under her breath so that only Hermione could hear.

Hermione shook off the comment that Lavender said. It was not rare for them to have these trivial things to discuss and argue about first thing in the morning. And anyway, she was in love with Harry Potter... nothing was going to change that. With a renewed sense of contentment and happiness, Hermione turned to work.

Meanwhile, off in a different part of the wizarding world where one could hear screams and cries for miles away, a man sat amidst all the tormented howls of his fellow inmates. He was simply sitting on an old, rickety chair, staring at his hands in muteness. His hair was long, almost up to his waist, was wispy and sprinkled with gray and white hairs here and there. His face is sunken, his eyes are almost hollow.

No one really paid much attention to this man, because the guards stationed there (the dementors were banished long ago) did not really care about the prisoners' well-being as long as no one escapes.

The torture goes on... everyone has their fill of torture and torment in Azkaban now. What they actually do will not be said here, it is far too gruesome. The pain does not only focus on the body... it invades the mind and probably the soul as well. It does not only traumatizes the victim, it makes their hopes shatter and their memories bleed.

The quiet man with the thin hair and sunken face slowly turns his attention to the window of his small and dingy cell. The morning was beautiful and the sun was shining brightly... but he sees no color. His eyes are almost blank. For years he has been there, watching the day through his small cell window and seeing nothing. Little does he know, that in some part of the wizarding world, a plan was about to take action.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! The plot begins here. Hope that you don't mind all the trivialities of writing a story, after all. Foundation is key. ) Anyways, you might notice my 'bias' to the Slytherin House... As well as the addition of a supporting character who you might not expect. What can I say? I like bad guys. Bad guys with long hair. )

Chapter 2

Draco Malfoy had not a single care about what the Daily Prophet had to blare about in the front page that early Monday morning. It was around nine o'clock and already his day was shaping out to be hell... or something far worse than that. Idly scanning the paper for a few minutes, only discard it on his desk as he reached out for the schedule his secretary had laid out on his desk before he came in.

Meeting at 10:30... Luncheon meeting at 12... Another meeting at 2... A reminder that the new shipment of flying cars (Mercedes Benz's and BMW's) had arrived and the Dealers themselves wished for him to take a look at around 4 that afternoon.

Not a very hectic schedule to others, but if you were Draco Malfoy and had to endure every meeting everyday then you'd be bored too.

He was only 23 and already he was CEO of one of the major fuel companies in both the wizard and muggle worlds. For Muggles, he directly supplied fuel for automobiles and airplanes. For the wizarding world, he was the one who revolutionized the broomstick, adding fuel to the units to make them accelerate faster and their sensitivity more up to par with the Quidditch player's reflexes. Also, he made fuel more efficient for flying cars.

And what was most surprising was it was not because of bloodlines or power that his family had. It was because he was a smart businessman and he never took anything for granted. Not since his mother had died a few years back and his father had been sent to prison before Voldemort's fall.

Not to mention, Draco was one of the most handsome bachelors around. His hair was long, almost as long as his father's had been many years ago. He kept it in a low ponytail, however. His eyes were actually more gray than blue, his aristocratic features were enough to make any woman swoon. Combining his looks with the power and wealth that he had gave a single conclusion: it was amazing that he was single... and did not care that women were actually fighting among themselves for his attention.

A small knock on the door of his vast office before his secretary peeked inside. "A man is here to see you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Who is it?" Draco replied.

"He refuses to give his name." His secretary said, smiling knowingly.

"Send him in." Draco took a deep breath and knew that his predictions about this day were right. A few seconds later, a tall, beefy man entered his office and closed the door behind him. He was only a few years older than Draco, aristocratically dressed and exceedingly well-mannered. He was a good-looking man as well, with his short dark-brown hair and striking features.

"Malfoy," The man addressed, nodding before taking a seat across the blonde-haired wizard.

"Come to disturb me on the first day of the week and it's not even 10 o'clock? Where have your manners gone to, Flint?" Draco replied, leaning back into his chair, ready for another discussion with his former classmate and right now, his closest ally.

"What can I say? The weekend has been good to me." Marcus said, grinning. His once hideous teeth were now fixed thanks to Marcus' mother who couldn't believe that her handsome son couldn't bring a girl home to meet the family. Contrary to what the other wizards thought about Slytherin families, the Flints were actually pretty close and cheerful.

And with that, Marcus started to recount some of the general details of what did happen during the weekend.

"Have you succeeded?" Draco asked, knowing all too well what the answer to his question would be.

"Have I ever failed?" Marcus replied smugly.

"No, I guess you haven't." Draco stood up as Marcus did the same and they both shook hands.

"Expect the check in the mail." Marcus said before turning to leave. "Oh, and before I forget, check the paper... there's has some news in there which I hope you would be interested in." With that, Marcus let himself out and closed the door behind him.

Draco looked at the departure of his friend in mild annoyance. Marcus Flint might be a good colleague and an even better friend as well, but it was always slightly unnerving for him to keep everything in suspense. Draco sighed and picked up the paper, again scanning its contents. When he did have time to read the paper, his reading was usually of the business section and the sports section.

A few unimportant stories later and Draco was starting to think that Marcus was just messing around with him... until he finally saw it. His eyes widened and he read that one sentence over and over. A look of shock and disbelief washed over his face before he altogether dropped the paper on his desk and proceeded to make a few phone calls.

-

"Congratulations, Harry." Dean Thomas said, coming over to slap Harry Potter on the back and grin at him. "The wait is over, I suppose?"

"Damn right." Harry said, laughing.

It was Friday night and everyone—friends, Hermione's family—were at his apartment unit, celebrating and enjoying the night. It was his engagement party to Hermione. Harry smiled to himself as he sipped his wine. It was only five days after he'd proposed to her and she'd accepted. As usual, the tabloids and every decent paper were all over it, but he didn't mind. She'd said yes and that was all that mattered.

Ron came over to his best friend with a huge smile on his face. Ronald Weasley had been playing for the Chudley Cannons as Keeper for the past two years and Quidditch had definitely been good to him. Countless women and girls alike swooned whenever he was around and he was currently one of the wizarding world's most sought after bachelors. After all, the tall frame, the boyish features and the success he was having, it was no question why he was still single and very much in the dating scene right now.

"What now, Ron?" Harry asked, a small smile on his face.

"You just had to go and do it..." Ron said, shaking his head. "Without telling me, even. You just had to go and propose to Hermione with me out of the country!"

"You had a game in Germany..." Harry replied, trying to get out of the situation.

"And when do I get to hear about it? Yesterday! Just yesterday! I was walking around, like a fool, not knowing that my two best friends had gone out and gotten engaged." Ron continued.

"Hermione likes you being the fool." Harry said, trying hard not to laugh too much.

"Yeah, but Hermione doesn't like having no presents at these kinds of events." Ron answered... but he was grinning.

"Speaking of Hermione, where is she?" Harry asked, trying to look for his fiancé.

"Over there, by the couch, talking to Ginny." Ron said, easily spying the two as he looked over most of the people's heads.

"Thanks. I always feel intimidated by your height." Harry mocked, setting down his wine glass and brushing off imaginary lint from his clothing, before going over to her.

"Hey," Ron called out as Harry went towards Hermione. "You should be happy... you've got your girl!"

Harry waved Ron's comment off and continued on his way to Hermione's side. It seemed that she and Ginny were launched into such a deep discussion about some womanly matters that she didn't even notice that Harry was there. When she did, though, no smile could've been more radiant than the one she'd shown to him.

The rest of the night wore on... with Hermione and Harry never leaving each other's side. In the midst of the friends and family laughing and talking, the two maintained an almost blissful state, not needing words to communicate with each other... just their love.

In front of Harry's apartment building was a different scene, however. For no one would suspect and no one would dare question as to the reason why the black Ford Expedition that was parked a few feet from the building's main entrance. The windows were heavily tinted, giving no clue as to who the passengers and the driver were. But they were inside... looking out for the inevitable coming out of their prey.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews! So sorry, if the last chapter was too short... but hey, I'm getting to the good part. Yahoo! I know you guys are all wondering what's going on... well, just read on!

Chapter 3

"How long is this going to take, eh?" The man behind the wheel of the Expedition said. "We've been here for what, three hours..? I'm getting bored..."

"Patience... you know what's in store for us when we do this." Replied the man next to him. He was slightly less beefy than the other man. But they were both big, nonetheless. At the back of the Expedition were audio and video equipment, charmed to appear only with a secret password.

"Yeah, I guess... You know what–"

"No names. Remember?"

"Oh yeah. Right." Said the driver. He began to scratch his head. "Um... what are we supposed to do again, mate?"

"This is a stakeout." The other man replied. This was usual for him, as his partner had some kind of memory lapse every now and then. He got used to telling what they were doing, about fifteen minutes after they were told what to do.

"I don't see any steaks." Said he, looking around.

It took superhuman effort not to: a. Laugh; b. Hit the other guy on the head with his boot; c. Groan with pent-up frustration; or d. All of the above. But as usual, he just smiled and said, "Not steak-out, man. Stakeout. Checking things out for the Boss. You know how he is; he's been waiting for this chance for months."

"Oh..." Was all the other man could say, then kept quiet after that.

A few minutes later, a phone call ripped through the silence of the vehicle. The man in the passenger side immediately went to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Have they walked out yet?" The man on the other line asked.

"Not yet, sir."

"Good. We're just finishing up here. Get ready to pull out, though. I hear the wizard police are roaming the streets... wouldn't want to be little D.E.V.I.L.s, would we?" He said with a snort.

"No. That we wouldn't. Hold on, I see someone coming out." With that, he hung up and started to watch as people were milling out of the apartment building. About less than 20 yards away, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were saying good-bye. He watched silently, noting some of their mannerisms. They did not know what was going to happen in the next few days or weeks of their lives. The fact that he was someone who had in a hand in "controlling" their lives was actually gratifying.

-

Hermione took off the glasses she sometimes used for reading and rubbed her eyes. She checked the time and found out that it was almost six o'clock. Both Lavender and Hannah were gone, leaving her to her peace. She knew that she was working too much, but somehow, she didn't care. Every new case was a new possibility for her to have a major breakthrough. So, she worked to the limit. She didn't even have time to eat a decent meal, for the case that she was working on now was particularly interesting.

Hermione leaned back on her chair and read the diagnosis:

_'This form of sickness has eluded Medical Wizardry books and tomes for what I believe to be about fifty years or so. It seems that we are in the midst of an epidemic which is not contagious yet may prove to affect every single human being, magical or otherwise. _

_As far as we know, there is no cure and there have been no previous encounters with this sort of predicament in the wizardry medical field. _

_A thirty year old man had been brought to the hospital about 3 days ago. He bore signs of head trauma and internal bleeding. The patient's pupils were uneven, showing possible hemorrhage in the right side. He had no response to pain. A look in his mouth showed that he had been either coughing up blood or drinking it. His breathing was labored. Fever was also noted. _

_A few minutes later, he was pronounced dead. _

_The autopsy report stated that he died from internal bleeding. His blood simply refused to coagulate...' _

Hermione set the report down and lightly chewed on her fingernail. She had never heard anything like it. More things were being said in the report but she didn't want to go any further. Quite frankly, she was scared. The report was only a few days old but almost everyone in the medical community knew about it. Which is why they called her; to create a potion or serum that could cure it.

She yawned, stretched and looked at the time. Almost 7. She had a date with Harry at around 9 o'clock. Torn between reading the rest of the report and going home to get ready, Hermione chose to leave tomorrow's work for tomorrow.

After organizing the messy papers on her desk, Hermione checked to see if the cabinets were secured with anti-theft charms. She checked the lab and found that everything was in order. One might say that Hermione must be very courageous to be alone in such a place at night... However, dear reader, she was not aware of the dangers that she would face that very night.

Hermione put on her coat and grabbed her bag. Walking to the door with her head in clouds of potion equations and reactions, she did not notice the faint mist that appeared, engulfing her feet in their violet folds. She did not realize that the violet mists were sedatives. It caused her mind to grow sleepy and her body to become weak. The room then became dark, as the lights had been switched off. Before Hermione could scream, before she even laid a hand on the handle, she dropped in a dead faint.

Not a second later, three men went inside the laboratory, clearly the perpetuators of the crime. One, the leader perhaps, carried Hermione's body out and into the container van which was their getaway vehicle for the evening. Meanwhile, the second man got all the transcripts from the file cabinet, taking only what was needed and left the others on the floor, which would burn later. He even got a few of which they didn't need, just to throw the police off the trail. The third man began to send chairs and tables into the wall, breaking them. He threw the papers in the air, crumpling some of them, some of them, he kept. He looked at the locked cabinet containing all the materials for the production of potions. He tried to break the glass but found out that it was protected against breakage. And so, he did the only thing that was allowed to do under these circumstances. He set fire.

With that, the two men went inside the van as their leader was taking Hermione's pulse. She was sleeping soundly, no cause for alarm there. With a signal from their leader, the men sped away just as a fire truck came to the scene, completely ignoring the black van that was making its way along the streets.

What Hermione didn't get to read in the final sentences of the report that was currently being engulfed in the flames, was that the patient was recently released from Azkaban.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews! I know short chapters with God-forsaken cliffhangers are the absolute death to a reader. ) However, it is imperative that I keep the first three chapters that way. Just to keep you guessing. I mean, Draco and Hermione haven't even met yet! So, now goes the dilemma. How would they meet?

I'm kidding, of course. But as you know, I don't like putting up work that isn't up to my standards. I had a lot of problems with how the story should unfold so it took me quite a while to write it. Anyways, enough of my insignificance! On with the story!

Chapter 4

Draco was in his study when he heard _it_.

The Slytherin was seated at his desk, reading a few reports on the current condition of the company when he heard the most horrifying thing he had ever heard: Hermione Granger, screaming that they let her go now or heaven forbid that she would gather up the strength to use wandless magic and curse them all to fucking hell! Draco Malfoy couldn't help but cringe. It was okay for Slytherins to swear. Hell, it was alright for them to say anything they wanted to say; but those words coming from a Gryffindor? It was... discomforting to say the least.

Gathering up his thoughts, he pushed himself away from his desk and stood up. He had loosened his tie; the long sleeves of his light gray dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows in an attempt to relax. Never mind the fact that he couldn't concentrate on his work the whole time that the others were doing their, shall we say, _job_. It had been their biggest hit yet; no potions, no duels, the time not even quite appropriate for the whole thing. But they were losing time.

And in Draco's perspective, the sooner they did it, the sooner they can let her go.

He opened the door to his study, walked down the hall and down the flight of stairs to where they were currently holding her. Her screams grew louder, but her voice was becoming more hoarse by the minute and if Draco wasn't too busy trying to come up with what to say, he would have heard that she was on the verge of crying.

And when he saw her, he had to stop dead in his tracks. There, in the middle of his sitting room was Hermione Granger trying to wrench away from Gregory Goyle's grasp. Her long, curly hair was a mess, having worked loose from its binds. It flew all over the place, covering her features so that Draco couldn't tell if she was crying at that point. It was Flint who noticed his presence and looked at him with a sigh of relief. The only other person in the room was Vincent Crabbe, who was looking at Hermione like she was the she-devil herself.

Flint and Crabbe managed to stand only a few feet away from the struggling woman, trying their best not to interfere. This was impossible, as Hermione was getting more and more furious at the moment. It wasn't until Goyle saw Draco that he managed to turn her to the direction where Draco was currently standing, still very much in shock. He didn't expect her to look so defeated yet so determined at the same time.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath. One reason was that Goyle had twisted her arm behind her, stilling her movements. Another reason was that she hadn't expected _him _to be standing there, with his arms hanging limp at his sides, as if he hadn't expected her either.

It took about for what seemed like eternity when in reality it was only a few seconds for them to realize the enormity of the situation. It was Hermione who spoke (rather, shouted) first.

"_You!_" She cried out. _"_You're the reason why these goddamn imbeciles _kidnapped_ _me_!" Hermione was beyond reason and deep into her anger and fury that Flint winced.

The four men pretended that they never even heard her say what she had said.

"It's a few minutes to nine, Granger," Draco stated in a calm yet commanding voice. "I think it would be wise if you kept you voice down. After all, I am right here."

Hermione was about to retort when she stopped herself. Shouting would only mean that they had won over her, she reasoned with herself. And so, she kept quiet. But this silence was not without a glare in Draco's direction. Her breathing was sharp as she tried to calm herself. She looked at him with venom, silently berating him with her eyes.

And then she remembered... 'a few minutes to _nine_'? Harry!

Without any warning at all, Hermione started to cry.

-

Meanwhile, the fire in the Potions Laboratory had been quenched. A number of Aurors, Harry included, were at the scene. They were trying to figure out if there were any casualties.

Harry went inside first. The place smelled of burned wood and a dozen other acrid smells. Harry choked down the bile that was beginning to rise up in his throat. Not only was the smell getting to him, it was the fact that Hermione was nowhere to be found. He had hoped that she was safe. But it seemed that the fates were against him this time.

He searched for her; his heart breaking just a little bit more at the sight of so much destruction. Images of the Great War were currently trying to work themselves back into his thoughts but he refused to give in. This was not some D.E.V.I.L. attack... it had no purpose. There were no telltale signs of a break-in or any sign at all this was anything more than an accident.

It was, in Harry's opinion, the beginning of the slow death of him. This case would be easier to handle if there had been a D.E.V.I.L. attack. At least there would be someone to blame this... destruction on. At least there would be people to hunt down and arrest as the perpetuators of this crime.

But an accident? Of no one's fault or doing? And Hermione smack in the middle of it?

Harry prayed for her safety, hoping against all the evidence that was presented to him at that moment.

The place was starting to feel a little cramped. He was starting to feel a claustrophobic; like the world was closing in on him. There seemed to be no trace of Hermione anywhere and he was starting to think that _she_ had...

No! He could not think it! Surely his life wasn't meant to turn out this way..! It was not possible that the fates would be so cruel as to take her away from him. Not when he had gone through so much. Not when he was this close to having her in his life forever. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking down in front of the others. He had to find her! She was smart; she couldn't have been the cause of this... _accident_.

He looked until he grew weary from the smell, from the taste of fear that was starting to ravage him. It wasn't until he turned over what seemed to be the remains of a table that he saw it. Harry turned his head away, refusing to cry yet refusing to believe that it was true.

Hermione's wand. The wand she had ever since; the one she used to practice every single charm and spell in every book had been broken in two. A couple of feet away was a dark patch of something that seemed to be like a potion that had spilled and erupted into flames.

That was when the world overwhelmed him in its wretched grasp.

-

Goyle looked at Draco helplessly as he let go of Hermione's arm. He was instructed earlier to keep hold of her lest she got away. But now, he hadn't expected her to break down in anguished sobs. She sank down to the thick carpet that covered the floor of the sitting room, her head in her hands.

Draco was speechless. He'd expected a fight; he was even prepared to engage himself in a shouting match with her until both their voices had been reduced to wheezes and such. He had not, under any circumstances, prepared himself for tears. No... not tears. Not from a Gryffindor. He looked to the others for help and found none. Flint had his lips pressed together, a sign that the older man had no idea what to do. Crabbe had a scared look on his face, as if she was going to melt right there in the carpet and he would be the one to blame for that melting. If they had any help to give, it was that the privacy that Draco would need with the witch.

He signaled them to leave, which they gratefully did, locking the door just in case and waiting outside. Draco took off the reading glasses he sometimes wore and massaged the bridge of his nose. He pocketed the glasses and walked over to where Hermione was sitting and crouched down beside her.

"Granger?" He said tentatively, as soft as he possibly could but loud enough to be heard. She made no indication that she wasn't listening to him and so he continued. "Do you want to know the reason why you are here?"

Merlin, he thought, but he was sounding... gentle. Gentleness was a trait which he never expressed. It was so out of character for him to be brought down to his knees, so to speak, by a lady's cries. Hermione made no reply so Draco took that as a sign to continue speaking. Might as well let her have all the details. After all, she didn't have a hand in her fate as of the night.

"You're here because I want something from you."

This time, Hermione stopped crying and turned her head slightly to where he was situated.

"I want you to make a potion for me." Draco continued, feeling rather encouraged by the fact that her crying had stopped. "Have you heard of Ahern's disease?"

Hermione slowly shook her head 'no'.

"It's quite unknown, I guess. Its symptoms include blood loss and hemorrhaging yet the blood has no coagulants. It cannot clot and yet it causes symptoms of clotting. The person inflicted with this disease is... conflicted within himself, so to speak." Draco stated, settling down on the carpet in favor of a more comfortable position.

"How do you know that it is Ahern's disease?" Hermione asked, the rage still evident in her voice, albeit her tone a bit tired. "I have read no such book that contains the specifics of that."

"Because it was used for dark purposes decades past. People wanted to forget that it ever existed." Draco answered. "I have some books that contain descriptions of it."

"And the cure?"

"Still unknown."

And unknown to both of them, they were having the most civilized conversation that they have ever had in their lives. Of course, they still refused to look at each other in the eye and they sat a foot away from each other. Hermione's reasons were that of anger and frustration and distress over the events. Draco's were of prejudice, for lack of a better term.

"So you want me to make you a potion to cure it?" Hermione asked.

"Correct." He replied.

"For whom?"

"My father."

Hermione's eyes widened with surprise as she heard it. She immediately turned to Draco and almost forgot everything else. So much had changed in him! His hair was long and tied neatly at the nape of his neck; his eyes were the color of storm; his features were more defined. For the first time in her life, Hermione forgot who he was and what he meant to her... which, after a second's time, meant nothing at all.

"Isn't he supposed to be in Azkaban?" Hermione asked sharply. A convicted Death Eater was in their midst and Hermione wanted no part of it. Draco had the mark as well, but he turned against Voldemort at the last minute. But _Lucius_ Malfoy?

Draco turned to her, his temper flaring already. "He was."

"Let me guess, Malfoy. You got him out of there." Hermione replied sarcastically. "Oh, wait a minute. Not you, exactly, but the rest of your hired hit-men. Am I right?"

"You always were... I don't see how that has changed." Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

"No. I won't do it." Hermione declared in a huff before continuing, "If you think for even one minute that I am going to help you save your father before his body rebels against him, then you must be out of your mind! I will certainly not-"

"I don't see how-"

"And don't you even think of interrupting me while I'm talking, Malfoy!" She interrupted, her eyes flashing.

Draco turned to her, his eyes looking her up and down, sizing her up. Hermione held her ground, clenching her fists tightly that her knuckles were turning white. He finally stood up and looked down on her.

"Never insult someone who has your fate in their hands." Draco started before Hermione could get a word in. Hermione pressed her lips together and looked away. He continued, "I hold your freedom, Granger. There is no way out of this."

"Fuck. You." Hermione replied, turning back to look at him with a look of pure hatred. If Draco was surprised at her reply, he didn't let on.

"Have it your way, then." Draco said before calling Flint and giving him instructions. She was to be taken to a room which was to be heavily warded. Hermione sat in silence, as if she was hearing the verdict that proclaimed her 'guilty' of a crime of which she had no part of. She let herself be taken away, never letting her gaze waver from Draco's face.

Author's Note 2: Well, tell me what you think! The next chapter is partly written because I want to hear what you think is going to happen next... I'll be waiting for your reviews! Oh yeah, 'Ahern's disease?' you might be asking. Well... a thousand points to anyone who can tell me where I got that from. )


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thank you for all of the reviews! Aha! Finally another chapter done! This chapter was fun to write; actually I had the first 10 paragraphs written right after the previous chapter. Unfortunately, due to school stuff and innumerable problems I had to face (no need to elaborate on that one. All I can say is, thank God it's over!), I couldn't continue.

Then there was the problem of not being able to write at all.

But anyway, the chapter is here! And it's spiked with what I like to refer to as 'romantic glitches'. Aha! And so we move to the actual romance part! These are my absolute favorite chapters to write because they simply write themselves. All I need is a little music and it's up, up and away! Yippee!

Chapter 5

Draco paced the hallway leading to the room which Hermione was situated in. It was off to the East wing of the Malfoy Manor, facing the house's expansive lawns and gardens. It should only be a couple of minutes' walk from his room and adjoining study which was on the West wing of the Manor, but somehow, it took him precisely twelve minutes to get from there to here. And he wasn't even at her door.

For the first time in his life, he was feeling a bit uncertain about the course of his actions. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone (least of all to Hermione Granger!) but Draco was the type of person who never shied away from truth. And the truth was he was scared.

He stopped pacing long enough to read what the Daily Prophet had to say and almost threw the paper in disgust. He didn't realize what his initial plan would amount to. He worked out every detail to make the execution of the plan flawless... but the consequences? He was too caught up with the events to think about those.

Of course, fire would alert the fire brigade.

Of course, Aurors would be sent in to investigate if there had been foul play by the Legion.

Of course, Potter was a damned Auror!

Of course, Granger and Potter were engaged!

Of course, he would immediately want to know where she was!

Why couldn't he have thought of all that!

Unfortunately, now was not the time to ponder. She had been sleeping for almost two days now. If he didn't speak to her now and explain everything, the situation would escalate to unfathomable proportions. After all, with Hermione Granger about, no one was safe; even from their own minds. By Merlin, the woman was exasperating even while she slept.

It was enough to be subjected to her thoughts about him and his actions while she was awake; but asleep? Draco rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand in an effort to alleviate the headache that was now forming. The witch had kept him awake for the past two nights. Not directly, of course. He was terrified that she would wake in the middle of the night and start screaming, demanding that she be released or they'll be forced to suffer her wrath... such as it is.

But no. She did not wake for the past two days. Draco had made it his business to know everything about her condition, even going as far as to check on her at one-hour intervals the past day. He sent his personal physician (a Muggle, mind you) to see to her, but his doctor merely stated that she was just tired. Draco erased the past few minutes of his doctor's mind to remove any doubts that the good doctor had on him. After all, the less people knew about his little... captive, the less suspicion there would be over him.

He paused at her door, rereading the newspaper he held tight in his hands; making sure that he had read right. How could you possibly show someone the paper proclaiming that you were missing, and quite possibly, dead?

Dead. The whole of Wizarding London thought that Hermione Granger was dead.

The first day after her disappearance and the destruction of the lab, they thought her missing. A team of Aurors was quickly assembled, with the intention of finding out her whereabouts and investigating where she could be.

The fire in the lab was an accident, according to the Aurors. They found no trace of foul play, nothing to link the fire and her disappearance to the Legion. They had no known lead. No eyewitnesses. And who exactly was spearheading the investigation?

Potter, no less.

He talked to the reporters without any emotion, as his professional life could not interfere with his personal one. It was well known that they were a couple, even more that they were engaged after five years of dating. But reporters gave him a bit of respect, only asking for the facts, never for Harry's opinion. Never for his feelings on the matter.

The last thing they wanted to see was the Boy Who Lived in a state of grief, determined not to break down and cry.

The paper continued on its story, stating that the Aurors were checking all the possible leads. Questioning people who knew her best and who might have seen her the night of her disappearance. Speculations about her came up in the tabloids; stories Draco did not care read but he was unable to shut them out completely.

One of the speculations was that Hermione had fled the country because of an unknown reason. Hypotheses about those reasons came in by the hundreds. She was terminally ill and didn't want anyone to find out so she left, instigating the fire as a cover-up. Or that she ran off with a man from the Legion. Or that she was taken hostage by a member of the Legion as a ploy to get to Harry.

Another of the speculations was that she committed suicide. A flurry of other reasons went after that. That she was unhappy with her work. That she was with-child. That she had gone completely insane.

However, two days had gone by. No body was found. Aurors tried plotting her location but with limited resources and man-power (as most had given up), they were unable to do so. And even if they had the capabilities, they still wouldn't find her. They wouldn't even dare to question Draco Malfoy and his empire.

It wasn't too long ago when Draco Malfoy formed an alliance with the top Aurors. These top Aurors were the captains of the different squads, ranking highest of them all. They were not really known; they preferred anonymity. It was much better for them, especially during the investigations. During the trials of criminals, they would give their expert opinion on the matter but never in the public eye.

Unbeknownst to the rest of society and even to most of the Aurors of the different squads, members of the Legion were being identified. This was possible because of Draco Malfoy. He knew the members of the Legion, the former Death Eaters. He had the Dark Mark to prove it. It was a pretty easy bargain, actually. Draco would allow the Aurors to ask their questions of the Legion's possible whereabouts, common crimes and tactics and he would answer them. This was, of course, in exchange of a price.

And that price was that his name be cleared of anything and everything that had to do with Voldemort's rise to power. He also asked that his manor be unplottable, so as to deter any unwanted guests that may have his death on their minds. Finally, he asked that he be allowed to continue his... business with Flint, Crabbe and Goyle (clearing their names as well) as undesirable as their business might be.

It was a most powerful Mafia, should it be viewed as such. At this point, no one could touch him and no one dared would. Even if Harry Potter was part of the Auror squadron, he knew that to disobey the strict order of his superiors would mean the inevitable disgraceful exit. And so it goes...

Draco stopped reading. He stopped speculating what might have, should have and could have happened in the situation. To use a Time-Turner would deem failure; and he couldn't change the facts otherwise. And so, with a little prayer to his mother asking for help, Draco unlocked the door to Hermione's room and opened it.

He expected Hermione to be in bed, just as she had been the past two days. It would be easier for him to wake her up, thrust the paper in her hands and run for dear life. By God, he did not want to hear the inevitable scream and holler at him, berating him and telling him to get back to her and explain everything.

But the Fates weren't in his favor... because the woman in focus was not only awake and dressed, she was standing right in front of him, tapping her foot impatiently.

She was waiting for him.

Draco swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. It was not from fear or anything like that. He had simply been rendered speechless... and he was unable to do anything except stare at her.

Hermione was wearing dark blue slacks with a white, form-fitting t-shirt and white sneakers. The day after her "abduction", Draco had called his secretary and ordered her to buy clothes and other things for Hermione. It seemed like his secretary chose well because the clothes fit perfectly. Her damp hair was unbound and the water made the waves more pronounced. She had not an ounce of make-up on and she looked absolutely gorgeous.

_She'd look more beautiful without the frown, of course_. Draco thought then quickly came to himself and wondered what in the world provoked that kind of response in him.

"Finally. I thought you'd never get here." Hermione stated, crossing her arms over her chest. She really didn't mean to sound so drawling, (she never wanted to be the reason for a bad day for anyone) but the man in front of her evoked that kind of rudeness in her!

Save of course, for the reason that he was looking particularly... delicious. Hermione groaned inwardly at what she had just thought and hoped that he hadn't noticed her state. Draco looked every bit the smart businessman with his white long-sleeved shirt and red tie, black pants and polished black leather shoes. He wasn't wearing any glasses but his hair was neatly combed back and tied at the nape of his neck.

_If Lavender were here, she'd be all over him right this minute... I'm frightfully tempted to do the same myself._ Hermione thought then chided herself. _For God's sake, Hermione! He's holding you prisoner in his own home!_

Amazingly enough, the thought of Harry never entered her mind.

"You've been up all this time, waiting for me? Granger, I'm flattered." Draco replied, smirking.

Hermione's eyes narrowed at him before retorting, "Enough of this small talk, Malfoy. I know why you're here and the answer is still a resounding no!"

"That's not why I'm here. Although, I don't really see the point of your argument with me... You're staying here under lock and key until I get my potion."

Hermione breathed deeply, almost cursing herself for doing so. The man was not two feet away from her and yet she could breathe in the scent of his cologne. Needless to say, it made her want to swoon. Malfoy, the arrogant little prick, or not.

Hermione was a sucker for a man who smelled good. Masculine, invigorating, powerful. Malfoy was currently the embodiment of all three.

She snapped herself out of these ridiculous thoughts about Malfoy and tried to say something that wasn't along the lines she was thinking of.

"Pray, what would be your reason for gracing me with your presence this early in the morning?" Hermione asked sarcastically, giving him a look of nonchalance, waiting for him to reply.

Draco clutched the newspaper that he held tightly in his hand, trying to dredge up some sort of courage to help him through this. The last thing he needed was a screaming Hermione, telling him to go to whither and die before she could get her hands on him and kill him herself.

Therefore, without much ado, he thrust the paper towards her, not saying a word.

"You're giving me the newspaper?" Hermione remarked, giving a small laugh. "Thanks, but no."

"Read it." Draco said, trying to keep calm and keep his voice even. "It's on the front page."

Hermione looked at him, nonplussed. She was trying to figure out if this were a joke, that he had a catch or something to that nature up his sleeve. When there was none, she took the paper from him and looked at him once again before unfolding it.

Now it was Draco's turn to inhale deeply. He counted, anticipating her reaction. Now, the more appropriate action would be to cover his ears and close his eyes until all hell broke loose. Alas, he had a reputation to uphold and found that he could not do either. All he could do was stare her as she read.

There were no signs of emotion of any sort as Hermione read. Draco didn't know whether to feel more relieved or more afraid. From what he could gather, she was ticking time bomb, ready to blow at any time.

She lowered the paper, letting it fall to the floor with a rustle. Her eyes were downcast so he couldn't determine her feelings at that point.

"Granger, I—"

"Get out." She interrupted him with a small voice. She cleared her throat and repeated her statement. She couldn't look at him.

"Look, I didn't—"

"I said, get out, Malfoy." Hermione said, waving him off. She turned away from him and put her hand over her mouth, willing herself not to cry.

When he didn't make a move to get out, she grew angry. "What's the matter with you? I said get out. Are you deaf all of a sudden?"

She took a deep breath before continuing. "Look, I'll stay here. I won't try to escape. I... I just need time to think. Draco, just... leave me alone. Please."

Draco muttered a silent affirmative before picking up the fallen newspaper and folding it. Before he stepped out of her room, he told her that the House Elves would bring her food in a little while.

He stole another glance at her before closing the door. She was curled up on her bed, her body trembling as she cried silently.

For the first time in his life, Draco walked away very much the victor to the battle but felt that he had somehow lost more than he had gained.


End file.
